It isn’t as garish as Ella’s, at least. I only let Gisa dye the gray ends, leaving the roots untouched. I twist a spare lock around my finger, staring at the odd color as I walk. Strange as it looks, it gives me a small burst of pride. I’m an electricon, and I’m not alone.
After the first attack on Archeon, Maven and his loyal advisers took up a campaign of collapsing or flooding the immense tunnel system beneath the city. They concentrated heavily on the southern edges, where the tunnels were more numerous, all of them leading to the ruins of Naercey at the mouth of the Capital River. Davidson originally suggested striking out from the abandoned city, but Farley and I knew better. Maven destroyed that too, rooting out the Scarlet Guard’s stronghold while obliterating whatever remained. He was inspired by the Guard as well, constructing tunnels of his own in addition to an escape train. I can’t be certain, not this deep or after this long underground, but I think we’ll link up with the train line eventually.
My inner compass spins, searching for true north in vain. We have to rely on Guard intelligence, what they know of the tunnels. And we have to rely on Maven. Stupid as it is, he is our best hope for getting as far into the city as we can. The combined force of Montfort and the Scarlet Guard is too big to simply strike from the air, or the river, or the ground. We have to do all three.
Of course I’m stuck scrabbling in the darkness, walking for hours beneath several tons of rock and soil.
Maven cuts a harsh silhouette, backlit by our lanterns. He’s still wearing the simple uniform the Montfortans gave him when they locked him up. Washed-out gray pants and shirt, the fabric too thin and the cut too big on his frame. It makes him look younger than he is, more gaunt and drawn than ever before.
I hang back, using Farley as a human shield between us. His own guards are close at hand as well, an even mix of Reds and newbloods. None of them falter, hands resting on their holstered guns. Tyton walks close by, never breaking his concentration on Maven. They’re prepared for the first sign of trouble.
So am I. My body buzzes, a live wire, not from my own electricity but from sheer nerves. I’ve felt it for hours, since Maven brought us down here, leading us through a service hatch a few miles north of the city limits.
Our army lumbers along with us. Thousands winding through the darkness, marching at an even, steady pace that echoes off the tunnel walls. It sounds like a heartbeat, rhythmic and pulsing, vibrating in my rib cage.
On my right, Kilorn shuffles along, his steps a bit stilted to keep pace with mine. He notices me staring and pulls a tight smile.
I try to return the gesture. He almost died in New Town. I remember the feel of his blood spraying across my lips. The memory fills me with a numb fear.
My old friend reads my face, even in the dim light. He nudges my arm. “You have to admit, I have a talent for survival.”
“Let’s hope it holds,” I mutter back.
I’m just as concerned for Farley, in spite of all her skills and wiles. Not that I’d ever say it out loud.
Farley has command of half the ground forces—all the Scarlet Guard soldiers as well as the Red Nortan defectors collected over the months of rebellion. Davidson leads the other half, though he is content to walk in line with the rest of us, letting her take precedence.
Up ahead, the tunnel splits. One side narrows but angles sharply upward, the path scrambling over a few ancient steps punctuated by gentle slopes of packed dirt. The other carries on like this one, wide and flat, with the slightest incline.
Maven slows before the fork, resting both hands on his hips. He seems amused by the guards flanking him, all six of them moving in lockstep.
“Which way?” Farley barks.
Maven glances over at her, wearing a familiar smirk. The shadows cut deep along his cheekbones and make his blue eyes stand out, vivid in their icy coldness. He doesn’t answer.
She doesn’t hesitate, striking him across the jaw. Silver blood spatters the tunnel floor, winking in the lantern light.
At my side, I clench a fist. I would let Farley grind Maven into a pulp under any other circumstances, but we need him right now.
“Farley,” I hiss, wishing I could call back the word as soon as I speak.
She frowns at me, even as Maven grins, showing silvered teeth.
“Up,” he says simply, pointing to the steeper way.
I’m not the only one to curse under their breath.
The narrower path isn’t difficult, but it does slow us down. Maven seems to delight in the prospect, looking back with a haunting sneer every few minutes or so. We have to walk three abreast, instead of twelve as before, making for a cramped ascent. The tunnel quickly grows hot with the presence of so many bodies, all of them nervous and agitated. A bead of sweat rolls down my neck. I would prefer to storm the capital at full strength, but I guess this will have to do.
Some of the steps are uneven and too high, forcing me to scramble. Kilorn watches me go, almost laughing. I can call forth a lightning storm, but tall steps are apparently beyond me.
The climb doesn’t take longer than a half hour, but it feels like days spent in the dim light, scuffling in relative silence. Even Kilorn keeps his mouth shut. The circumstances settle over the long train of soldiers like a cloud, sobering us all. What will we find when we finally reach the surface?
I try not to look at Maven, but find myself focusing on the outline of his body. It’s instinctual. I don’t trust him in any capacity. I expect him to dart into a crevice, disappear, and escape. But he keeps an even pace, never faltering in his steps.
The path flattens again, joining a wider tunnel with rounded walls and stone supports. The air is colder, sending a chill over my fevered skin.
“I think you know where we are,” Maven says, his voice echoing down to me. With one hand, he gestures to the center of the tunnel floor.
A pair of new tracks gleams, reflecting our lanterns.
We’ve reached the escape train.
I swallow hard, feeling a swell of fear rise in my throat. Not long now. Everyone else knows it too, judging by the thrum of activity rising through our ranks. From here, Farley’s half of our forces can easily get up to Whitefire, Caesar’s Square, and the cliffs that make up West Archeon. The rest, following Premier Davidson and General Swan, will cross under the river and link up with General Palace, the last member of Command still operating in the city. If all goes to plan, we’ll be able to overrun both sides of Archeon before anyone knows we’re here. And the Lakelanders will be caught in the middle.
But will Cal fight with us?
He has to, I tell myself. He has no other choice.
The official objective is to keep the city out of Lakelander hands. We can do that, at the very least. We can do that.
Next to me, Kilorn brushes my arm, sensing my discomfort. The burst of warmth makes me shiver again.
At the edge of my perception, something tinges. It hums and buzzes, the whine of distant electricity. Not above us, strangely, but ahead. And steadily approaching.
“Something’s coming,” I bark aloud.
Tyton reacts in the same manner, his body tensing. “Stand back!” he shouts, pushing Maven against the wall. The rest of us follow suit, moving quickly as the sound reaches us.
An engine screeches far ahead, closing the distance as it gains speed over the tracks. The lights round a gentle curve, blinding in comparison to our lanterns, and I have to turn my head to shield my eyes.
I end up looking at Maven, who doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t even blink.
The familiar train speeds by in a blur of gray metal, too fast for us to glimpse who may be inside. Still, Maven searches the windows as they fly by, his blue eyes big as dinner plates. He pales, going whiter than Tyton’s hair, and his throat works furiously, lips pressing into a disappearing line. All this passes in an instant as he quickly wrestles his emotions under control, but the moment is enough for me.
I know what fear looks like in Maven Calore, and he is terrified now. For very good reason.